I See the Light
by Allanna Stone
Summary: Julia Evans grew up in a loving household with her aunt, uncle and cousin. What happens when the girl-who-lived is informed that she is a powerful witch who must leave everything she ever care about behind? REPOSTED AND EDITED
1. The Girl Who Lived

**I See the Light**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any of the songs that will pop up.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Julia Evans grew up in a loving household with her aunt, uncle and cousin. What happens when the girl-who-lived is informed that she is a powerful witch who must leave everything she ever care about behind?**

**A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:  
>I copied most of this chapter from HPatSS. Please don't tell me "copyright infringement"- I went in a changed a few things for then sake of this story, alright? Please, just give it a chance!<strong>

**CHAPTER TWO**

It was a dark stormy night when the unthinkable happened to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four Private Drive.

For the entire day, there had been a tabby cat sitting on the wall which surrounded their neat little yard from the rest of the world. The cat, despite having spent all the day awake and sitting up on the wall, showed no signs of sleepiness. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight when the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner where the cat had been watching, appearing so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and it's eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Private Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots would be stared at with curiosity but have no questions asked. He was busy rummaging in his cloak for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest streetlamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again- the next street lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Putter-Outer, until the only light left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even doe eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Putter-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a while he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall/"

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She too was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. He black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a car sit so stiffly/"

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feast and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their new." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living room. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet them that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find Lilly Evans. The rumor is that she is- is- that she's- dead. "

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lilly... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the her daughter, Julia. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Julia Evans, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone.

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Julia survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Julia to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."

"You don't mean- you can't mean this charming Muggle family who lives here?" cried Professor McGonagall, turning her head to glance behind her to number four. "Dumbledore, I do believe that this is a wise choice, why I just witnessed today their little boy helping his mother make cookies- he made more of a mess than he made sweets, but the looks on his face when he accidently spilled the flour all over his mother's head…" She shook her head in amusement. "You couldn't find a family who are less like us."

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people might possibly never understand her! She'll be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Julia Evans day in the future- there will be books written about Julia- every child in our world will know her name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Julia underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing her."

"You think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of scarlet curls over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give her here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Julia in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Julia and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it- Lilly dead- an' poor little Julia off ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Julia gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Julia's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Putter-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Julia," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the stormy sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Julia Evans rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by warm arms cradling her as Mrs. Dursley bustled about the kitchen making a warm bottle for the young girl, she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and coddled by her cousin Dudley... She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Julia Evans- the girl who lived!"


	2. JUST ANOTHER DAY

**I See the Light**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any of the songs that will pop up.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Julia Evans grew up in a loving household with her aunt, uncle and cousin. What happens when the girl-who-lived is informed that she is a powerful witch who must leave everything she ever care about behind?**

**CHAPTER TWO**

**JUST ANOTHER DAY**

Ten years passed, and with every year, Julia Evans grew more like her mother, as Petunia Dursley would say fondly. She enjoyed reading and animals, spending time with Dudley (who was really more like a big brother then a cousin) and music. All in all, Julia led a relatively normal life.

Every night before bedtime, Petunia would go up to Julia's bedroom in the attic and tell her a story about her mother. There were certain one that were often requested (like for example, when Lilly and Petunia went to summer camp and woke up to find frogs in their beds, a curtsey call from the boys on the other side of the campsite, and how they got them back). But there were so many unanswered questions that Julia had learned not to ask, for if she did, her beloved aunt would switch the subject with such a speed it was almost as though she had sixth sense that told her when Julia would ask the dreaded questions.

One night, a few months before Julia's eleventh birthday, the redhead girl found herself wide awake, unable to find sleep in the depths of her mind, which had other things on her mind.

Earlier that day, Julia had been forced to tell a dear friend of hers that she would be unable to attend his magic themed birthday party, for Aunt Petunia had told her that Aunt Marge might be popping by for afternoon tea.

"_I am so sorry, Jimmy_," she had told him.

"_I could sneak you out- there will be a magician_," he told her hopefully.

"_I can't besides, Aunt Petunia doesn't like it when Dudley sneaks out, she might whip me if I do the same_," she responded with an apologetic look.

Finally, Julia gave up on the idea of sleep and swung her legs out of bed, standing to cross the attic bedroom towards her full length mirror which was next to her closet.

Julia didn't view herself as pretty, despite everyone's protests that she was so. She was smaller than the average ten year old girl, with a slender build. Her dark red unruly corkscrew curls were always worn loose, except when Julia was at one of numerous sport practices- then she wore her curls in a tight French braid. Her emerald green eyes were set into a heart shaped face of fair porcelain, and on her forehead was the greatest mystery of all times- a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Julia had once asked where the scar had come from.

"_Oh_, _you got that scar when you fell out of a tree years ago_," Petunia had said, perhaps a bit too quickly. But Julia was just eight years old and had took in the story as being true. But now that she was older, she was beginning to wonder if her aunt was in fact lying to her.

Julia sighed as she turned away from the mirror and wandered across her bedroom, drawing on her dressing gown to help ward off the sudden chill that she now noticed. She opened the trapdoor which led into the second story hallway, where the upstairs washroom, Dudley's his parents' and the spare bedroom were, and Dudley's library, which technically speaking belonged to Julia as how most of the books in there belonged to her. Julia crept past the bedrooms before going down the staircase to the kitchen, where she decided a cup of hot cocoa might be just what she needed to fall asleep, if only for a few hours.

Julia smiled as she passed by photos of her and Dudley growing up- a few of them being pictures she took herself, mostly landscapes of when the family would travel for her Uncle Vernon's work.

Julia sighed as she inhaled her hot drink a few minutes later. She wandered into the family room, where she switched the television on and turned the volume down low enough not to wake up everyone, but loud enough for her to hear what channel was on.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Julia let out a sound in between a snort and a chuckle as she flipped the channel to find a Russian film playing. She settled herself down to try and decipher what was being said. Now do keep in mind that Julia had an uncanny way with languages; she learned French in three weeks, which came in handy at her ballet class and when Uncle Vernon would travel to France for business meetings. Most of the time, Julia and Dudley would go off and do whatever they felt like doing, but there was one time when the translator that Uncle Vernon had hired failed to show up, so Julia stepped up to act as a translator. At first, the then seven year old girl was nervous with being in a big meeting room full of men dressed in nice suits and staring at her and Uncle Vernon. When there was a word she didn't know, she would ask (ever so nicely) what it meant and how to use it. Needless to say, all the Frenchmen fell in love with the quirky young girl and were soon requesting that she act as their own translator, for a great deal of them did not speak English very well.

Halfway through the film, Julia heard the mailman pull up. She muted the commercial, and went to unlock the door for him.

"Packages galore!" she crowed upon being presented with several parcels of different sizes. "Thank you!"

By this point, Uncle Vernon was up and in the kitchen, trying to make himself some toast without setting off the smoke alarms.

"Here, Uncle Vernon, let me cook for you this lovely Friday morning!" Julia called out quietly as not to wake up her cousin and her aunt, who weren't morning people.

"Thank you, dear," Vernon swooped in and kissed her curly head before settling himself down at the kitchen table with the morning paper in hand.

No less than ten minutes later, after Julia had handed him a plate with bacon, eggs and toast and a cup of coffee, did Dudley wander in, still in his pajamas and eyes halfway closed.

"Hungry, Dudley?" Julia called out, setting down a plate with food for him before sitting next to him with an identical plate for herself.

"Thanks, Julia," Dudley grunted, taking a large bite of bacon.

"What all do you have going on today, Julia?" Vernon asked her kindly as Petunia appeared as well, her eyes looking a bit sleepy as she beelined for the coffee pot, which Julia had filled only minutes before.

"Well today, I am going to go to the abandoned factory and take some pictures of the outside- don't worry, I won't go into the premise!" Julia told them cheerfully. "And then, I want to get a present for Jimmy to give to him when I see him next."

Petunia got a guilty look on her face, but no one seemed to notice.

"Dudley, can you come with me? I was thinking of getting him a new video game, only I don't know which one he'd like," Julia continued.

"Right now?" Dudley grouched.

Julia giggled as she took her plate and fork and placed them into the dishwasher.

"Yes, let's go out and shop for a birthday present right now while we're both still in our pajamas," she said sarcastically, laughing as Dudley gave chase to her as she darted up to her little bedroom in the attic.


End file.
